


The Waiting Game

by Jabberwocky (Sisterwives)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Babies, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 09:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sisterwives/pseuds/Jabberwocky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bro is in the waiting room of the pediatrician’s office with baby Dave playing on the floor, when a tall troll and his grub enter. In spite of their guardians’ attempts to pit them against each other, the two infants hit it off in a remarkable display of interspecies friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Waiting Game

There was nothing worse than spending a Friday morning at the pediatrician’s office, Bro decided. He was wasting precious time that could have been spent working on his next pay-to-view Plush Rump video, but he guessed it was unavoidable. Dave was due for a checkup, having spent the last week recovering from an earache. Bro was glad that the worst of it was over, as the whole ordeal had led to many sleepless nights for him, pacing the apartment with the baby in his arms, bouncing him up and down and trying to get him to calm down. “Come on, come on,” he muttered as he crossed the room for what felt like the fiftieth time. “I got you, you’re okay, we’ll knock this fucker out of you, just let the antibiotics do their thing, just be quiet, god, be quiet…” It was enough to bring him close to tears, as much as he would vehemently deny it. He was sleepless and desperate for some peace and quiet, feeling like an utter failure as a parent because he couldn’t do anything to help him. Even after he got Dave settled down in his cot for the night, he still couldn’t sleep, the squalling still ringing in his ears.   
  
Now that Dave wasn’t wailing in pain night after night anymore and was back to his old, happy, healthy self, Bro didn’t even want to bother with the follow-up appointment, but the doctor had convinced him that it was the best thing. So here he was, squished in a hard chair in the germ-infested waiting room of the pediatrician’s office. The last patient before him had just been called in, a crying, snotty brat in pigtails whose mother looked ragged to the point of exhaustion. At least he wouldn’t have to suffer much longer, Bro thought, stretching out his legs and wrapping an arm around Lil’ Cal, who was on the chair next to him. He watched Dave on the floor, grubby hands pawing through a My Little Pony book that he’d brought with them.   
  
He looked up as the door to the office opened, his brows shooting up at the sight of a tall, gangly troll with the biggest rack he’d ever seen. While the building had made efforts to accommodate its co-specied patients with taller ceilings and wider doors, the fact remained that this troll couldn’t get through the door without stooping and entering sideways. Bro made no effort to hide his wide smirk, barely flinching when the troll gave him a cold look.   
  
The troll straightened up and headed for the receptionist’s desk, and Bro managed to divert his attention from the gigantic horns and red and black trihawk long enough to realize that he had a kid in tow. Of course he had to, given that it was the pediatrician’s office, but Bro had been distracted. And in his defense, it was easy to miss the little one anyway. The tiny orange grub that was resting against his chest was almost completely covered by his guardian’s large palm, the runt of the litter.  
  
“Rufio Nitram,” the troll said to the receptionist. “Just wanted to bring Tavros in to get him looked at, he’s been off the past few days.” Just then, the grub sneezed, a tiny _achoo!_ that was remarkably forceful for something so small. Even the grub looked surprised, and Dave giggled from his spot on the floor. Tavros peeked over his guardian’s shoulder at the baby and let out a chirruping sound, which Dave responded to with a gurgle.   
  
Bro was highly confused and looked between the two infants, trying to figure out what kind of exchange had just taken place. Rufio hadn’t even noticed, too engrossed in filling out paperwork and tapping out a beat against the counter as he tried to remember the details of his kid’s medical history. Bro was seriously considering crossing the room and ripping the pen out of his hand, if only to get him to quit making that incessant, irritating noise, when he finally put the pen down and turned in the paperwork.   
  
“Thank you. The doctor will see you shortly, you can go take a seat,” the receptionist said pleasantly.  
  
Rufio sat down across from Bro, giving him a curt nod of hello as he placed his grub on the floor. “Hey.”

“S’up.” There was a moment of silence as they watched Tavros crawl across the floor to Dave, who had abandoned his battered book and was watching the grub with keen interest.   
  
“That your kid?” Rufio asked, lifting his chin in Dave’s direction.  
  
Bro snorted. “Nah, I just filched him off the street when his mama wasn’t looking,” he deadpanned. “Snatched him out of the stroller while the broad was too busy yelling at her snot-nosed twin brats. Took him home and decided to call him my own. Just getting a checkup now, cause you never know, he might have fleas or something. Who knows what he picked up out there. So, what, do I have to worry about your insectoid offspring getting him sick with, I don’t know, fucking troll influenza now?”  
  
“Troll influenza? That’s not even close to being a thing,” an aggravated Rufio shot back, folding his arms across his chest, and if Bro didn’t exude confidence from his every pore, he would have been vaguely intimidated by the way the troll’s muscles bulged beneath the frayed cutoff sleeves of his vest. “Just don’t let your pink monkey of a brat breathe on him. He’s delicate.”  
  
Tavros trilled a hello to Dave, who grinned and opened and closed his chubby fist in greeting. Both guardians watched with bated breath as Dave leaned in to look at his new playmate, but his outrageously awesome shades were hindering his ability to see the grub clearly. He whined and pawed his shades off his face, accidentally causing them to topple on top of Tavros, the pointy frames digging into his squishy body. Tavros let out a distressed peep of alarm, and both guardians glared at each other before talking over each other, addressing their respective children with equal intensity.  
  
“Dave, what is this fuckery?” Bro accused. “Not cool, man, not cool. Rule number one of Striderdom: never remove your shades. Come on, you’ve been with me long enough to know that by now.” Dave acted as if he didn’t hear him, instead batting the offending pair of sunglasses off of Tavros, who let out a sigh of relief.   
  
“Tavros, don’t let the little shit get away with that! Headbutt him, that’s what your rack is for!” Rufio egged his kid on, but instead, Tavros chirped in contentment and rolled over on his back to expose the soft flesh of his stomach, his legs wiggling in the air. Rufio shook his head, muttering something about wasting his horns.  
  
Dave babbled nonsensically and poked his tummy, causing Tavros to squeak and the two of them to giggle – at least, Bro was pretty sure that the chittering noise the grub was emitting was its way of laughing. He shook his head in mild disbelief, clueless as to what was going on. The two of them were hitting it off in the way that only two innocent babes could.   
  
Tavros rolled back over on his stomach, and Dave curiously reached out to grab one of his horns. Rufio acted on instinct and jerked forward, growling protectively.   
  
“Oh _hell_ no, get your filthy hands off Tav’s horns, what do you think you’re doing—” he started, but he cut himself off upon realizing that Tavros wasn’t hissing or reacting defensively to the intrusion on his personal space – he was purring, a low hum from the back of his chitinous windhole.   
  
Rufio sat back in his chair, scratching his head in confusion. “Alright, if you’re okay with that… but still, you tell your kid to keep his hands to himself,” he warned Bro, his tone accusatory and eyes narrowed.   
  
“Hey, you think he’s gonna listen to me? He’s like what, six months old? He doesn’t listen me when I tell him not to slobber all over Cal over here—” Rufio gave a sidelong glance to the puppet that Bro was gesturing to, unsure if this was a normal thing for humans or if he’d just gotten stuck in the waiting room with a freak “—he’s not gonna listen if I’m all, ‘Hey little buddy, mind not touching your creepy-crawly friend’s horns? Yeah, that’d be cool, thanks.’ Hey— hey!”  
  
Bro sat upright when he spotted the grub reaching for Dave’s discarded shades with his stubby forelegs.   
  
“Hands off the shades, that’s Strider property, only the coolest of the cool are allowed to touch those things—”  
  
Dave looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes and a happy grin, and Bro faltered in his tirade. Rufio smirked, glad that the tables had turned.

“…Whatever. Do what you want.” He gave up and watched as Tavros wormed his way beneath the pair of pointy shades, which were ridiculously large for his face. Dave laughed and clapped his hands in delight, and Tavros crawled into his lap.  
  
Bro made eye contact with Rufio and the two of them laughed in spite of themselves, resigned to the fact that the two infants had their own agenda. “Our kids are failures, aren’t they?” Bro asked as he leaned back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head.   
  
Dave yawned, patting the grub on the head with one clumsy hand. Tavros’s yawn followed immediately after, a natural reflex, and he stretched out his body before curling into himself.   
  
“Pretty much, yeah,” Rufio agreed, propping his elbow on the arm of his chair and resting his head in his hand. “I get the feeling that Tav’s gonna grow up into a soft wiggler, but at least he’s happy.”  
  
“Yeah. Dave doesn’t get to meet many other kids, let alone grubs, so this is new. It’s weird to see him so happy.”  
  
“Yeah, neither does Tavros. He’s pretty much a loner when it comes to making friends with other grubs, so this is really bizarre.”  
  
The door to the office opened and the nurse poked her head into the waiting room. “Mr. Strider? We can take Dave now.”  
  
Both Bro and Rufio looked at their respective children, who had dozed off together. “Yeah, hang on.”  
  
Rufio tensed up when Bro reached for his kid but relaxed when Bro simply extricated the grub from Dave’s grip and gently deposited him in Rufio’s hand. Tavros let out a little squeak and shifted in his sleep, gripping Rufio’s thumb and curling around it.   
  
Bro slung Lil’ Cal around his neck and scooped up Dave as quietly as he could, cradling him in the crook of his arm. Dave immediately clung to his shirt, and Bro had to smile. Even when napping, Dave was as clingy as ever.   
  
“Well, they got on surprisingly well,” he commented.   
  
“Yeah. Maybe they should have a playdate sometime.”  
  
“That’d be cool, give Dave some company. Anyway. Bro Strider’s the name,” he extended his free hand, and Rufio shifted Tavros to his other hand so that he could shake it.  
  
“Rufio Nitram. See you around.”  
  
“Yeah, I’ll hit you up sometime.” Bro filed the name away in the back of his mind for later and left the waiting room with the oddest sense that in spite of the fact that they had butted heads initially, he had just made a friend – and so had Dave. He smiled to himself as he looked down at the sleeping baby in his arms, glad that his kid finally had someone his age to connect with. Maybe pediatrician’s offices weren’t so bad after all.


End file.
